New Year's Eve was never a holiday Bonnie spent much time thinking about. It hadn't really been something she'd ever celebrated. Last year, she'd been unknowingly texting Marceline while she was home alone, and the year before that, she'd just watched movies with Bubba. She'd never been to a big New Year's party, and to be honest, she didn't really want to.

When the 31st rolled around, she expected a nice, quiet night in. Maybe with a book and a cup of tea. She didn't even get out of pyjamas.

That was how Marceline found her when she strolled through Bonnie's bedroom door like she owned the place. She paused in the doorframe, looking her up and down rather obviously.

Bonnie stared up at her expectantly from where she was lounging in her bed, her duvet covering her legs for warmth, using her thumb to mark her page in her book. "Yes?"

"You're in your pyjamas?" Marceline frowned at her. "Why, exactly?"

"Because I don't have any other plans, and I like to be comfortable when I'm reading." Bonnie held up her book for emphasis. "Unless… did you text me?"

Marceline laughed. "When do I ever text you to tell you that I'm coming over?"

"Fair point," Bonnie agreed, letting out a quiet little chuckle, "I just didn't expect you today. You know, since it's New Year's Eve. I assumed there'd be some party on that you'd be going to with your friends."

"Are you serious right now, Bon?" Marceline kicked her bedroom door shut and got herself comfortable on the bed next to Bonnie. "You didn't expect me on New Year's Eve? Dude, I want my midnight New Year's kiss."

"Oh," Bonnie realised, and pecked her on the lips despite the fact it isn't midnight. "There you go. A whole six hours early."

Marceline elevated an eyebrow questioningly. "You don't want to kiss me at midnight?"

"No, it's not that," Bonnie found her bookmark and placed her book down on her bedside table, "I'd actually really love it if the first thing I do in the new year is kiss you. But I just… really, really don't fancy a party. And I also want you to go and have a good time."

"Well, I was just going to invite you over to Keila's," Marceline said, "that's not really a party. But if you don't want to go out, I'm cool hanging here with you."

Bonnie hummed in thought, and her hand absentmindedly found its way to Marceline's shoulder, where she traced little heart patterns with her finger. "Define not really a party."

"Well, for starters, it's just going to be me, Keila, my brother, Guy and Bongo," Marceline said, "and you, if you're down. We were just going to get drunk, probably play random pop punk covers and order a lot of pizza. And then fall asleep on Keila's basement floor."

Bonnie smiled. "I like all parts of that plan besides the basement floor. At least give me a bed, Marcy."

"Okay, we can claim the guest room. Keila will back us." Marceline said, and Bonnie pouted just a little bit when her girlfriend jumped up, looking adorably animated, and whirled around to her closet. "Can I pick your outfit?"

Bonnibel laughed. It was an odd request, but a nice one all the same. "Of course, darling."

Marceline flung open the closet doors and flicked through the available choices. "You know, I would make some kind of closet joke, but I can't actually think of one."

Bonnie tried to do that for her, but before she could even muse over the numerous possibilities, Marceline closed the closet doors and walked over to her with a pair of blue jeans and a white polo shirt that must be Peter's and had accidentally fallen in with her things. "That's what you're going with?"

"I've never actually seen you in pants that weren't pink or purple," Marceline shrugged, and her easy-going smile turned into something of a smirk when she said, "Plus, I think the polo would be hot. I've never really seen you in clothes that aren't like, uber-feminine. Except that shirt, but that doesn't count, because pyjamas."

Marceline pulled at the sleeve of the rock t-shirt Bonnie was wearing, and Bonnie just looked down at the outfit a little hesitantly. "Admittedly, there's a reason for that."

Marceline looked confused, and a little concerned. Maybe there was a little fear in there too. "There is?"

"You don't need to look so terrified, it isn't linked to some deep trauma," Bonnie said, but second guessed that when she really thought about it. "Well, maybe it is. But you haven't upset me, love."

Her girlfriend was still frowning, and Bonnie quickly put a hand on her knee, squeezing it reassuringly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Bonnie hummed in thought. There was that familiar twang in her chest, like one of her heartstrings being pulled, but that was probably a reflex at this point. Like her body had trained itself to do that every time she thought about her family.

"I suppose it all comes back to my parents and their obsession with traditional gender roles," Bonnie said eventually, and she felt Marceline's fingers slide through hers. Despite the tips of her fingers being calloused, the rest of her hand was always so soft. "Even though I managed to unlearn a lot of the beliefs they tried to force-feed me, I always had insecurity surrounding embracing my more masculine side. I am generally more feminine anyway, when you think about stereotypes, but… I don't know. When people were on me for being gay at the catholic school, they always said that I didn't look gay. I think it may have created some kind of negative link in my head between masculinity and homosexuality. That if I ever wore anything masculine, everyone would just know."

"Oh," Marceline said quietly, and when Bonnie looked up at her, she was still frowning, "Okay."

"You know, I've always kind of admired the way you can pull off both," Bonnie admitted, bumping against her girlfriend playfully, "you looked equally as stunning in the dress from New York and the suit from the winter formal."

"I guess I just don't really think clothing should be gendered. It's just material, right?" Marceline said, shrugging easily. She wasn't frowning anymore, thankfully; the compliment had flipped that right into a smile. "If a girl wants to wear a suit, and a guy wants to wear a dress, they should go for it. Sure, one may be more 'socially acceptable', mostly because masculinity in general is considered more socially acceptable, but that's a whole feminist argument I'm not going to go into. But it's still a valid choice. Just a bunch of fabric. I mean, half of my t-shirts are ones of my brother's that I saw when I was doing laundry and decided I was going to keep."

Bonnie laughed, because she could totally see Marceline doing that. "I do think you have a point. It is all just fabric. I guess a part of me can almost hear what my parents would have to say about it, you know? With them, girls wore dresses and skirts, and boys wore trousers. Those were just… the rules, you know?"

"Damn, they really would hate me," Marceline snorted, "They'd think I'm some kind of hellspawn intent on corrupting you."

"Maybe you are," Bonnie teased her, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek, "now, I suppose I ought to change. What time is Keila expecting us?"

Marceline blinked at her. "You're going to wear it?"

"Mhm," Bonnie hummed in reply, cupping Marceline's jaw and pulling her in for a real kiss, albeit a quick one, "A very beautiful and surprisingly wise girl convinced me. I like her quite a lot, and she's very good at making me feel better."

Marceline softened, and Bonnie tried not to get lost in those beautiful eyes of hers. "Correction. You love her quite a lot."

"I love her more than anything," Bonnie confirmed, pulling away and grabbing the shirt, "Now, give me a few minutes to get ready and then we can set off."

"I don't know," Marceline smirked up at her from the bed once Bonnie pulled off the pyjama shirt. "I think we have a little bit of time before we need to be going anywhere."

Bonnibel paused, her grip on the polo shirt slackening. It flopped onto the floor, but she didn't really care. Nor did she even notice; she was much too busy pushing Marceline back against her mattress.

Bonnie was amazed that even with a few drinks in her, Marceline could still sing and play the guitar at the same time. Actually, doing that anyway was pretty impressive to her, because it obviously took a lot of brainpower. Maybe someone should see which parts of the brain were active during musical performances, if such a study hadn't been conducted yet.

Maybe Bonnie had a few drinks in her too.

She was sat with Marshall, watching as he poured himself a shot and then took it, cringing slightly. Bonnie assumed she'd be cringing a little bit too, but asked, "Can I try that?" as Marceline began half singing, half laughing a song about Stacy's mom and how she's got it going on.

"Little Bonnie, taking shots?" Marshall laughed, but poured her one anyway, "Here you go."

She sniffed it and nearly choked. "What the…"

"It tastes worse," Marshall said, "but it'll get you good and drunk if that's what you're going for. And it's New Year's so… that should be the ultimate goal, right?"

Bonnie knocked it back the way he'd done before, spluttering a little at the foul taste. He passed her a can of coke and she popped it open and took a long drink. "I'm not going to do that again."

He laughed, probably at her dramatic reaction, but he didn't comment on it. Instead, all he said was, "Thanks, by the way."

"For the entertainment?" Bonnie asked, referencing the dramatic shot-taking. "You're welcome."

"No, no," Marshall laughed, nodding over to Marceline – she'd apparently abandoned singing in favour of bouncing around with Keila, and the music coming from both guitars was still impeccable. "For making her so happy. Because I've never seen her like this, and I've literally known her since the womb. It's like she's not scared to be herself anymore, you know?"

"Yeah," Bonnie said, watching as her girlfriend and Keila jumped around, laughing and smiling. "I know what you mean."

When the last note of the song rang out, Marceline dropped down onto the big red couch next to her. On the way over, Marceline had mentioned that Keila's parents were incredibly supportive of her musical interests and had basically converted the basement into a practice area for them. The equipment was pretty impressive, multiple amps and microphones and stands, plus a drumkit and all of Keila's guitars. It was soundproofed too, apparently. The couch was for spectators, which roughly translated to 'girlfriends, boyfriends, or whatever else'.

Marceline's guitar was still fastened on when she sat down and the head of it nearly hit Bonnie in the face. "Hey. Oops, sorry. Are you drunk enough that you'll sing for me?"

Even though she maybe was, Bonnie laughed. "Definitely not. Sorry to disappoint, darling."

Marceline pouted and took a shot her brother wordlessly offered to her. She didn't even flinch at it. "Damn. Because I'm getting to the point where I can't really focus on singing and playing guitar, so I gotta pick one. And I don't really like singing without playing an instrument, I never know what to do with my hands."

"How about you sing and play bass instead," Bonnie jokingly suggested – Marceline had explained that in songs with two guitars and no keyboard, she passed the bass duties onto Guy and played the rhythm guitar instead. "Marshall, you sing, right?"

Marshall said "Yeah," at the exact same moment Marceline said, "No, he sucks."

"Wow, thanks for the display of sisterly love right there," Marshall rolled his eyes, "Thanks, Marce."

Marceline snorted. "Fine. You're good, but you're nowhere near my level. Especially with all those cigarettes you decide to smoke any time you're drinking."

Marshall shoved her lightly. "You've smoked before, get off your high horse."

"I didn't even like it, and even if I did, I care too much about my vocal cords to do it ever again." Marceline said, and when she pulled the dramatic hair flip, Bonnie was strangely reminded of Elle. "Bonnie. Sing. Please? We can play a Taylor Swift song. Like Better than Revenge, we know that one. Even though it's kind of sexist, it still slaps."

"Face it," Marshall laughed, "She isn't going to sing."

And then Marceline did it. Even though she was around her friends, and her brother, who would all probably never let her hear the end of it. She brought out the puppy dog face, green eyes wide, lips pouted, hands clasped together.

To drive her point home even more, Marceline murmured, "Please, babe? Only one song. After that we're going to play Welcome to the Black Parade, and unless you had an emo phase I don't know about, I know you don't know that song."

"Fine," Bonnie caved, and the potential embarrassment was worth it when she saw the massive smile on her girlfriend's face. Green eyes lit up, that little dimple in her left cheek showed, and it was like Bonnie could see her amazingly beautiful heart through it. "But only because I love you so much."

"I love you too," Marceline grinned, grabbing her hand and pulling her over to the microphone stand in the middle. "Don't overthink it. Guys! Better than Revenge. Bonnie's going to sing."

"Bonnie's going to sing?" Keila repeated excitedly, glancing over at her with a big smile. "I didn't know you could sing, man. That's cool."

Into the microphone, Bonnie answered, "I never said that, Marceline just bullied me into it."

"Hey, don't call it that," Marceline bumped against her with her hip, "You're going to kill it, I know it."

Bongo hit his drumsticks together to count the others in, and they all started playing, clearly in tune and in sync with one another. Bonnie didn't know if it was years of practice or just pure talent. She remembered what Marceline had said. Don't over think it. She supposed if she completely failed and sounded like a dying whale, she could at least blame it on the alcohol.

She could hear the nervousness in her own voice as she started to sing, and when she looked around at Marceline, she was too lost in her guitar playing, but Keila flashed her an encouraging smile and a nod. When she saw the way Marshall was grinning and clapping along, the confidence built, and by the second verse, she was dancing around with Marceline and Keila, not caring if she sounded like some bad drunk karaoke act. Bonnibel had never been particularly musically inclined, and never enjoyed the piano lessons her parents had forced her into, but with Marceline there, music was wonderful.

When the song ended, Marceline pulled her in for a hug. It was a little awkward, with her guitar in the way, but she didn't care. "Bonnie, you killed it!"

Bonnie laughed nervously. "You're not just saying that to spare my feelings?"

Marceline snorted as she pulled away. "You know I wouldn't do that. Not with this, anyway. I'm going to make you duet with me some time. Not when I'm drunk, though. Got to make sure I can match up to you."

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Okay, now I know you're lying to spare my feelings."

"Seriously, Bonnie, you were great," Keila flashed her that broad grin, "I didn't know you could sing that well. Maybe we'll kick Marce out of the band."

Marceline scoffed, shoving her best friend lightly. "Then I'll just kick you out of the band and take your place."

"How are you going to kick her out of the band if she already kicked you out?" Bongo said, pointing his drumsticks at her. "If you're already out then nobody is going to listen to you."

Guy laughed, plucking a few notes on the bass guitar. "He's got a point, Marce."

"If Bonnie's in, she'll listen to me," Marceline stuck her tongue out childishly but when she looked at Bonnie, she did that thing with her eyes, the one that could get her anything she ever wanted. "Right, Bonnie?"

For once, Bonnie resisted. "No."

The look of sheer offence on Marceline's face made Bonnie burst out laughing, and when she tried to pull her in for a hug, or a kiss, Marceline whirled away dramatically. "Nope, I'm breaking up with you for betraying me. I can't believe you'd side with them."

Keila laughed. "Obviously our new vocalist is going to side with us."

"Since you dumped her," Guy said, looking Bonnie up and down, "Hey there."

Bonnie rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh when she heard Marceline's honest to god growl. "Not my type."

Guy sighed, and Bonnie got the feeling that was a regular occurrence. "What's the point of being in a band if all the groupies are lesbians?"

Bonnie decided she'd come back to that groupie thing later, mostly to ask her girlfriend if that was true. She knew they performed around town, and she knew that they got a lot of YouTube views. Admittedly, after a few of the comments she'd seen on Marceline's recent Instagram selfies, she was glad that the older girl had posted the pictures of them from the winter formal.

"I'm Bonnie's type, though," Keila wiggled her eyebrows rather obviously at Bonnie and just laughed when Marceline turned the raging death glare onto her. "Scared I'm going to steal your girl, Marce?"

"Like you ever could," Marceline scoffed, grabbing Bonnie by the hand, "she knows what she wants."

"Thought you dumped me?" Bonnie raised a teasing eyebrow, and when Marceline just rolled her eyes, she chuckled and pulled her in for a kiss. "I suppose I could be good enough to take you back."

The quick kiss had improved Marceline's mood rather markedly. She smiled softly and said, "Good, because I love you. Want another drink?"

"Yeah, but nothing alcoholic," Bonnie said – the fact that she'd even considered singing just showed that she was passing tipsy and straddling the line of drunk. "Just some juice or something."

"Okay," Marceline lifted the guitar off and put it back into the hanger she'd taken it from, grabbing Bonnie's hand, "We'll be right back."

Bongo called after them. "Bring me some root beer!"

"Get it yourself, jerk," Marceline said as she pulled Bonnie up the basement steps, pushing the door open. Her friends started playing some other song, but the moment the basement door shut behind them, the sound cut out.

Marceline flicked the kitchen light on – Keila's parents were out at a New Year's party so they had the place to themselves – and walked over to the fridge, pulling it open and staring inside. She grinned and pulled out the leftover pizza from earlier, grabbing a slice of pepperoni from the box and eating it cold.

"Yuck," Bonnie cringed, and Marceline turned around, seemingly remembering she was there, "You're eating that cold?"

"It's nice cold," Marceline shrugged, grabbing a little carton of apple juice from the fridge and passing it over to Bonnie, "here's some juice."

"Thanks," Bonnie pierced it with the straw and took a sip, glancing over at the clock. It was eleven fifty-five. "Getting close to midnight."

"Mhm," Marceline followed her gaze and nodded, "did you say happy new year to your English friend when it happened over there?"

"Yeah, I texted him," Bonnie said, and after a few more moments of comfortable silence, where Marceline helped herself to another slice of leftover pizza, she added, "I'm glad we're doing this."

Through a mouthful of pizza, Marceline said, "Dating?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, darling," Bonnie commented, only half serious, "No, I mean, hanging out with your friends. I feel like I always make you hang out with mine, and I know Keila and Marshall are my friends too, but… still."

After she'd finished her slice of pizza and put the box back in the fridge, Marceline shrugged. "I guess I just never thought you'd be interested. All we do when we hang out is play music. Or go to parties. Not really things you're into."

"The parties, definitely not, but," Bonnie paused to wrap her arms around Marceline's waist and pull her close, "I love watching you perform. It's sexy. And apparently all of your other lesbian groupies agree."

"Oh my god," Marceline laughed, "that's not- I can't believe Guy said that. I don't have groupies."

"I've seen your Instagram comments, love," Bonnie said, her hand slipping under Marceline's sweater. She kept her held close by the waist, and traced her thumb across bare skin, slowly, gently. "I think you do. Are they the reason you're such a good kisser? Lots of practice, hm? I ought to thank them. And rub it in their face a little bit that you're all mine. Because you are, aren't you?"

Marceline let out a stuttered breath, and she was quite obviously blushing. "Mhm."

Smirking to herself, Bonnie leaned in a little closer, so her lips were centimetres away from her girlfriend's. Her thumb kept tracing lightly against Marceline's waist. "What was that? I didn't quite hear you."

"God, Bonnie," Marceline murmured, and she didn't meet Bonnie's gaze when she mumbled, "I'm all yours."

"Quite right," Bonnibel smiled, satisfied, and pulled her in for a slow kiss. She gently bit Marceline's bottom lip, hearing that rather glorious little whimper she let out as she let Bonnie take control, kissing her deeper, pushing her up against the kitchen counter.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at the clock again. Four minutes had passed. Midnight was approaching. The new year. They were already kissing, but she pulled back, and Marceline chased her lips, her fingernails digging into the nape of Bonnie's neck.

"Easy there," Bonnie murmured while she had the chance, because soft lips were on hers again, and she had to pull back, "countdown, darling."

"Don't care," Marceline mumbled, "Just kiss me."

Bonnie laughed, and kept her head tilted away, watching as the little hand on the clock slowly counted down to midnight. "Five, four, three, two… happy new year, love."

Marceline's only response was a kiss.